You Get It?
by Shippo704
Summary: Being a country is a tough job. Political struggles, old friends, new enemies, maintaining relationships, and immortality. Each country has different methods for coping with these difficulties, some healthier than others. Fortunately, those in pain can find each other and help each other when they need it. Self harm.
1. Big Boy Now

**Chapter 1: Big Boy Now**

 _I need to hurt. I need the pain. I like it. I can't live without it. I need to do it. I know it's wrong, but I really need it._

Latvia stood up from his bed, walked to the wall, and punched it with all of the strength he could.

 _That was weak! It barely hurt! This is nothing compared to what I get from Russia! I can do better than that!_

Latvia punched the wall repeatedly, each time hitting harder than the last. If there were any neighbours nearby to hear, they might even call the sound desperate. Knuckles bleeding, Latvia lowered into a crouch, clutching his head with his fingers and digging his nails into his scalp.

 _It's not enough. It isn't enough anymore. I need to do more! I need to hurt more!_

He strode quickly over to his small study. His house wasn't large or full of homely items, but he did keep a separate room for his work and all documents associated with being involved in the government. And there was _a lot_ of paperwork involved in the government.

Reaching to the dusty side of the shelf, Latvia pulled out the thickest dated book of records that he had. Testing the weight, it seemed heavy enough. He threw the book down on his foot, letting the bottom of the spine hit him on the soft spot just before his toes.

 _Damn it, not even close to enough!_

He made his way to the kitchen and repeated the process with the plates, adding bruises to his bruises.

 _Still not enough!_

Taking advantage of his isolation, Latvia left the house. There were no neighbours for at least a kilometer. Living in rural areas had an advantage sometimes. Latvia ran into the trees to where he knew of a large boulder. It was six feet in height, roughly rounded and reasonably smooth, with a couple of footholds and smaller flat surfaces that made it easy to climb.

Once upon a time, Latvia would sit on the rock, enjoy the solitude, and think. Sometimes, Lithuania would join him and the two would sit in silence together, looking at the sky through the treetops. But that was a long time ago.

Now, the rock seemed like the perfect punching bag.

Latvia began to unload his frustrations onto the rock, punching it with vigour.

 _I'm so stupid! So useless! Pathetic! It's no wonder I'm so small! No wonder I still look so young compared to the others!_

When his hands grew numb, Latvia began to kick the rock with his feet and shins. The combat training from the wars was certainly useful for allowing the best technique.

 _What's wrong with me? I can't stand up to Russia. He squeezes me down, keeping me small._

His legs grew numb and were bleeding from the scratches. On impulse, he strode closer to the rock, and slammed his head into the side face.

 _I'm too scared to do anything. I don't like being scared. I don't want to be afraid. Not anymore..._

Latvia's thoughts trailed off and he smiled as he slipped into the numb and peaceful realm of unconsciousness.

* * *

He awoke slowly, feeling groggy. It was as though his head was stuffed with cotton and his his thoughts were being dragged through molasses. As odd a feeling as it was, Latvia didn't feel any pain. Not in his head, not on his body. He was numb and, dare he say it, almost happy.

As the dirt ground into his wounds, Latvia felt a sense of peace. He was not weak. He could take it, all of it. What could be worse than this? Russia's abuse, a piece of cake compared to what he was able to do to himself. No one could say that he was weak if they knew about this. It took strength to be able to damage oneself as much as this. If he were human, there was a decent chance he could have killed himself like this. The thought probably should have scared him, but at the moment, it didn't.

Latvia stood up from the ground, scratching the dirt into the cuts on his arms and legs, taking no mind of the bruises on his feet and hands. It might hurt physically, but Latvia couldn't care less. He barely felt it, and he didn't care. Maybe it would hurt later, but for now, Latvia was content with the feeling he had now.

 _Only the strong can handle this. I am strong. I am proving it. Some day, everyone will see._

He headed back to the house and tucked into his study. He needed to get the paperwork done before the next World Meeting. When was it, anyways? Three days, four maybe? Not a lot of time, but he knew he could do it. He proved his strength to himself. Now his resolve. He can do anything because nothing can bother him now.

 _What even triggered that anyways? Why did I just suddenly need to hurt myself?_

Latvia sat and looked over the documents on his desk. There were three piles: one for his government and his national responsibility, one for the World Meeting that included the topics to be covered and his expected contribution, and the last for his personal affairs. The final pile was the smallest by a huge margin. There might have been ten pages in the pile, but it had been a while since the last time he had brought himself to look at the pile. His drivers license wasn't expiring soon, his insurance wasn't due for months, and taxes had already passed. There wasn't much else that he needed for himself.

He had only been independent from the USSR since 1991, so less than twenty-five years. He knew that he was still young, and fairly new to the workload, but that didn't mean that he didn't have to do everything that his government asked of him. He didn't know how some of the other more powerful countries dealt with it. All of the stress and ridicule. Latvia wasn't even a large or powerful country. He still had several ties to Russia through his people and military especially, so it isn't as though he's completely on his own in his affairs. At least some of them.

America looks almost the same age as he does, and he can handle everything without batting an eye. On top of the normal responsibilities, America is also a part of the G8 and the one of the most powerful countries in the world, economically. He also gets laughed at for his country's stereotypes and his general stupidity. How is it that he can be fine while Latvia suffers?

 _Did I do something wrong? Is it my fault that I feel like this all the time?_

Clearly he must be doing something if he's the only one that feels the need to hurt himself to calm himself down. It isn't healthy, it's definitely the wrong thing to do, but it makes him feel strong and it helps to get rid of the awful feelings of self-hatred and loathing. Best of all, is gets rid of the fear. When he feels that much pain, and when he takes control, the fear, the shaking, and everything he hates about himself disappear for the moment.

 _It also feels really good._

Why would he want to stop? If it feels good, keeps him calm, and keeps the negatives at bay, why would he ever consider giving up the habit? Just because it is generally frowned upon? Latvia knows already that he can easily hide any injuries that he inflicts upon his body. He's been hiding himself for a very long time. When he lived with Russia, it was easy to hide broken fingers and toes from hitting his limbs against walls and floors. The constant shaking and trembling caused by his nervous nature hid the shaking from the pain in his legs and back when he stood and sat.

 _Is is sad that I have more experience hiding myself than doing the job I was born to do? Literally what I was created for?_

Maybe it's just because hiding is easy? Generally, people do not assume that one is harming oneself. They will assume that there is something else going on, usually something external. They would probably accuse Russia of abuse before they suspected self harm.

Hiding becomes even easier without any of the telltale marks associated with self harm. When people think of self harm, it's always cutting, burning, and starvation. If it's just bruises and broken bones, then it can be passed off as extreme clumsiness. With all of his shaking, it's easy for Latvia to come up with excuses for his injuries.

To an extent, it is surprising that neither Lithuania or Estonia has noticed anything strange about the younger country. At the same time, the three did not interact nearly as much as the other nations expect. The three of them have very little in common, besides proximity and the time that they had spent living in Russia's house. Sure, the three had looked out for each other, but they didn't spend much time talking about anything personal. They are three different people with three different lives and three different sets of experiences. Though they are grouped together as the Baltic States, they aren't very close.

Latvia just felt alone.

 _No one is like me at all._

He felt alone in every aspect of his life. Alone in the harm, alone with his feelings, alone with no friends, alone with no one to speak to, and alone with all of the goddamn growing pile of paperwork in front of him on the desk right now. How would he finish it all before the World Meeting? Less than 72 hours to get through both stacks of paper. On the down side, Latvia is a nation, so he has a lot of responsibilities. On the up side, though, he is a nation. Staying up for 72 straight hours to finish the work won't kill him. It won't even hurt.

* * *

 _It only took 62 hours. Sometimes, I can work fast, I suppose. Only six hours until the World Meeting starts._

After a quick glance at the clock, Latvia booked it out of his house. With any luck, he would make it to the meeting on time. Lithuania is the host this time, so he should be able to make it with plenty of time. It's only a three and a half hour trip from Riga to Vilnius, maybe four hours with the border crossing. He figured he could take a nap when he gets there. Two hours should be enough to catch up on sleep, right? It's not nearly enough, but it will have to do.

A quick glance in the car mirror showed Latvia that he still looked like someone had beat him half to death. Technically, he was, but no one needed to know that he had caused it himself. No way to hide it now. At least he had the next three and a half hours to come up with a good excuse. After all this time, it's almost a game. Maybe he could even try to make himself seem strong or tough this time. Tripping, stairs, and getting mugged only work so many times, after all. He'd have to come up with something a bit more creative. This could be fun.

Maybe. Almost.

* * *

A/N: Hey! As a sidenote, there is a poll on my profile for future Hetalia fics. I know that it says angst on it, but I'll probably be writing some friendship fics as well. Check it out. I'd love to hear your feedback!

-Shippo704


	2. Not my Fault

**Chapter 2: Not my Fault**

 _16844 days. That's how long I've been clean. That's hardly anything compared to our lifespan, but it is still an accomplishment. I have to remember that. That's 56 years, a month, and eleven days. It's 2015 now, and time for the September meeting. It's the first of every month, so there is no way to forget. I'm required to be there, even on days like today when I really just can't make myself care enough to want to go._

England slowly got out of bed. It was just one of those days. Everything hurt and felt heavy, but there was nothing to be done to fix it. The only good thing about the day is that the meeting was to be held in Europe. As welcome or not as he is, as a European country. It's not his fault that he's different. Once upon a time, he did try to fit in and be normal.

Since when does trying to be normal actually work? No one is normal, just less different from others. It's not his fault that no one else likes his beer-batter fish or his scones. He can actually make a half decent curry if given the chance. His magical friends are also real, and it isn't his fault if no one else can see them. Clearly they just don't possess the same magical talents. Romania believes him, although that might just be his fanaticism for anything supernatural. He always did have a weird fascination with vampires...

Even still, it was not his fault that his attempts fit in never seemed to bear fruit. He went through several phases over his lifespan, and even went as far as to try to imitate other, more accepted countries. Sadly, for all of his efforts, it only got him more mocking than before. At least he knew that it was not his fault.

If he repeated that enough, he might one day believe it.

Sometimes, England would think to himself about what it would be like to do it just one more time. Once more couldn't hurt anything, could it? It's not as though he'd become addicted again after only one more.

But there was his promise to himself. He swore to never put himself through that again. Well, not that he minded doing it all that much. In fact, he kind of enjoyed the sensation. Giving it up, and the withdrawl too, that was the worst.

There was so much longing and need that he felt physical pain because he would not cave to the temptation. It didn't help either that the entire world was still living in fear from the cold war and that his own country still remembered the horrors of the second world war all too clearly. There were many points during that time that he felt it was too much. He had considered going even further and was tearing his hair out with the frustration he felt while he was torn between what he wanted and what was good for him. He had almost desperately given in to the desires, but he didn't.

He supposed that he was lucky. After all, there was a reason that he didn't give in. That reason, just so happened to not come from himself. Why today, of all mornings, was he thinking about the one man who had saved his life and the circumstances around it?

That's right. He wanted to do it again. It was just so tempting, but they had made a pact. Neither would be the first to give in to their demons. Whose were more dangerous would be left up to an outsider's judgement, but neither of them were particularly... healthy. With England, it was a combination effort of several actions that he had to struggle with. For his friend, there was only one battle to be won, but it was much more severe. His friend, being so much older, also had to learn on his own how to find a balance between the demons and his life. There was no one to help him get started.

England's heart went out to the man that had given him so much, and at the same time, never asked for anything in return. He still couldn't figure out if it was simply a cultural quirk, a kindness, a politeness, or extremely low self esteem and self-worth. Maybe it was a combination. England couldn't help but feel sorry for the man.

Checking the clock, he still had time to lie around for a little longer. The meeting wouldn't start until 11o'clock in the host country, which was Lithuania. Lithuania is two hours ahead of England, so the clock that reads 3:00 here would be 5:00 there. The flight is only 3 hours long, and doesn't leave until 5:30, English time. He would arrive in Lithuania at about 10:30 their time, and have just enough time to get to the building hosting the meeting. Including travel time, and the time needed to go through customs, He wouldn't have to leave his house until 4 o'clock, so there was still most of an hour to lie around and try to stop thinking about everything he shouldn't want to do, and how much he just didn't want to move.

Maybe it was considered cheating, slightly, but if he skipped breakfast, he could wait in bed for an extra ten minutes. This wouldn't be breaking his promise. Skipping one meal here and there never hurt anyone. It was too early to even consider breakfast anyways. No one could blame him for not being hungry when no one (except perhaps America) would be hungry four hours before a normal breakfast time, regardless of who they were.

It was a small blessing that his paperwork was finished, at least. He tended to try to finish it one or two days before he needed it when it came to the world meetings. Every month, without fail, he would become lethargic and apathetic to everything, just as the meeting approached. Knowing that it is not a mood in which he should do important work, he tried to avoid having anything to do during that time. Once he could leave and get away from the other countries, back to his isolation on his island, he could go back to feeling like himself.

But for the two days around the world meeting, he had to put up his defences and seal himself off. If he let someone get in, or get a glimpse of himself, he surely would not survive. Emotionally, of course. No need to start thinking so dramatically. Sticks and stones, right?

 _But sticks and stones will heal. Words will stay forever._

England pulled his head under his pillow in an attempt to block the depressing thoughts from his mind. Every country was teased about some stereotype. His just happened to be everything that he cared about. Brits have bad teeth. _Unattractive._ Brits can't cook. _No useful skills_. Brits have no fashion sense. _Unappealing_. Imaginary friends. _Crazy. Mental. Can't take me seriously._ The United States and all of his faults must have come from his older brother Britain. _Technically true, in a sense, but America is his own country_. Black sheep of Europe. _I'll never fit in. I'll never be one of them. Always different, and always alone. What's wrong with me? Why can't I ever seem to fix it?_

He pressed the pillow over his head with as much force as he could, but it wasn't helping. The thoughts just kept going around and around and around, over and over and over again. They wouldn't stop. Just trying to block them out wouldn't work. He needed to do something. He needed to take action against it. He needed to-

 _BEEP BEEP BEEP!_

-turn off the damn alarm clock! Had it really been an hour already? England sighed with defeat, and with no small amount of effort, pushed the covers off of his body. Standing up was the real challenge. Once he was up, he could go, but he first had to actually stand.

Slowly and steadily, England sat up, then moved his legs one at a time over the edge of the bed. After slipping his feet into his slippers, he pushed himself up onto shaky legs. It took less than ten minutes. Maybe things were looking up for the day? He set off to complete his morning routine. He had to make sure that he looked presentable, like a regular gentleman for the meeting. It wouldn't do to have people start thinking him a slob on top of everything else.

Shower, suit, comb, toothbrush. Check the mirror, step on the scale, smile, looking spiffy!

 _I'm doing fine. I look fine. I am clean. I am groomed. I am smiling. I am convincing. I can do this. Four hours until the meeting, a couple hours during the meeting, and then it's all over for another month. Definitely nothing that I can't handle. What's a few hours anyways? I've done it loads of times, and I'll do it again loads more. Every month until I die. There could be a worse fate. I'm pretty well off as I am. At least I am a civilized person. That is one thing that they can't ever take away from me._

England left his house to make his way to the airport. He would be right on time for the meeting, as any gentleman should be. Too early meant too eager. Too late, and he'd be considered rude like America. Just on time is exactly what he wanted. Punctuality is a trait of a civilized gentleman.

As he drove himself to Heathrow, he began to solidify the walls in his mind that kept the negative comments out. The others would not get to him this time. He could handle it. It was only words after all.

 _Whatever they say to me, about me, I can take it. I didn't cave. I can handle it. No matter what, it's not my fault._

* * *

 **A/N:** Comments? Questions? Check out the poll on my profile if you feel inclined.

Also, disclaimed! I do not own Hetalia or anything related to it. This is just a fan story.


	3. My Pain, Your Pain

**Chapter 3: My Pain, Your Pain**

As usual, the beginning of this World Meeting started as free-for-all nonsense with everyone talking over each other, and America shouting about how great he is. Canada at least looks like he's ready to stand up for himself a little more now. He's talking to some of the other countries and actually speaking up to America on occasion. It must be the recent change in government taking effect.

England though, thought that it was far too early in the morning for all of this ridiculous noise. Thankfully, it looked like Germany was about to take things into his own hands to get the meeting _actually_ started and to discuss important issues, as per their job.

The tall blond stood up and began to shout. "That is ENOUGH! We call this conference every month to solve the world's problems, not chat and bicker and fight like children! And since I am the only country who seems to know how to run a meeting, we will follow my rules from here on out! Eight minutes each for speeches, no chit-chatting or side deals, and absolutely NO going over the time limit! If you want to go, please raise your hand, but do so in a way that does not mock my country's past. Now, who would like to speak first?"

Of course, the world idiot would stand up first, and completely ignore the rules that Germany had _just_ outlined.

America smacked his hands on the table and began to shout at the (now) quiet audience of all of the countries of the world. "Okay dudes, it's time to listen to your hero! Going back to the plan that I have so awesomely mentioned every meeting for the last... A long time, I think that we should use genetic engineering and create a giant superhero to..." he kept rambling.

England tuned out the younger nation. This same speech, or a similar one, had been brought up at the beginning of every single meeting since the world became aware of the global warming phenomenon. This was turning out to be a waste of time. Why had he even gotten out of bed? This certainly wasn't worth it.

 _These thoughts aren't helping at all! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and listen. Maybe America is saying something useful for once._

"...And I know how much you all hate on your hero, me, but what better way to solve all of the problems in one fell swoop than with our own giant superhero so that we don't have to worry about it anymore! Hahahaha! I'm brilliant, right? All the brains _and_ brawn are found in yours truly, the United States of America! So because this is my idea and..."

This is _really_ not worth listening to. England had always wondered about his young charge when America was growing up, because he had seemed reasonably intelligent, if a little naive. What happened to America to make him this self-absorbed? Or was it an act? For all he knew, America could just be faking most of the whole superhero thing. After all, no one had caught on to his own dep- disguised thoughts and actions over the past half century. Well, no one except Japan.

 _I'm not sure that I can make it through this meeting._

He had been so sure before, when he left his house, and now that he was here, he just couldn't handle it. This whole meeting is such a farce. Why were all of them sitting here and wasting their time with this drivel, when they could be doing _actual_ work for the _actual_ problems in their own countries and the rest of the world. Listening to America rant about impossible superheroes is not productive in the least for anyone.

England felt himself slipping lower into these feelings as the younger nation continued shouting at the audience. He put his head down in his arms, letting himself feel anything and everything that he would through the rest of the speech. By the time America was wrapping it up, England was emotionally exhausted.

"...And that's why my idea is right, and why you shouldn't listen to all of them little countries, the ones that all kind of blend together. Which Baltic again? They're all weak! No need to hear from the smelly Frenchies and annoying Brits too! Hahahaha!"

That last comment stuck England _hard_. Insulting him again, for no reason at all, other than because he could. The others probably thought it was funny. Of course he would pick on the loner country, the isolated country, the most despised and hated country in all of Europe.

 _What did I ever do to him? What fault did I do? Was it annoying to care about him and try to help him when he was younger? Was it my fault for trying to be a good older brother?_

America sat down, still laughing and holding his belly. The other countries were giving America harsh glares. None of them found his comments funny. Some of them were outright racist. There were quiet murmurs about election and political troubles in the States, and that it might not be entirely his fault. His future presidential candidates didn't look promising. Elections are difficult for all democratic countries, but America should still have _some_ sort of self control when speaking.

England didn't notice those reactions, because his head was still in his arms.

Germany stood up again to speak. "Alright. That was... quite the speech, America. Who would like to speak next? And hopefully bring a good idea forward..."

At this question, England looked up, since he figured that he should probably be paying attention again. He looked around the room at the other nations. None of them seemed to want to speak up after America's long (and pointless) rant. France was stubbornly looking in the opposite direction. The Italies both actually looked offended, not just the South. Japan looked slightly stricken, but it was hard to tell with his naturally straight face. Mexico looked like he wanted to murder the asshole to his North. Canada looked ready to cut ties (at least personal ties) with his brother. Lithuania, as the host, looked extremely nervous since he is the one who would have to take any actions against inappropriate behaviour. Latvia next to him was shaking like an earthquake. Russia was muttering "kolkolkolkolkolkolkol..."

It looked like no one else was going to speak, and England _really_ couldn't take this anymore. He raised his hand.

"I acknowledge the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Your time starts now. Begin." Germany said tiredly. It appeared that America's speech had taken a toll on him too.

England stood up and took a deep breath, preparing himself for this completely ridiculous proposal that he was about to put to a vote. "I would like to take a vote. Who wants to take a quick lunch and siesta break before we continue with the meeting. Germany, if you would like to count this as my turn, then that's fine. All in favour of a thirty minute breather?"

Nearly every nation present put their hand up immediately. Unfortunately, one nation decided that his outbursts were necessary every time that someone else spoke.

"Dude, who needs a break after the great hero gave a speech?" America interjected, "I admit, I am pretty impressive, and my unique and innovative ideas might be a little hard for your tiny brains to comprehend, but that's why other people talk at these meetings! So you have time to process and understand everything that I, the great hero, have said instead of paying attention to what some other less awesome ideas are." The self-proclaimed hero stood proudly, fully expecting everyone applaud, or at least give some assent to his statements.

Instead, Germany stood up angrily. "Alright, the vote has decided. By vast majority, we will take a lunch break now. Be back in exactly thirty minutes." The tall man stalked out of the room with a purpose, and North Italy trailed behind. The other nations made their way into various corners of the room (specifically away from America) to talk to each other and calm down.

England noticed Japan purposefully making his way towards him, and immediately turned to leave the room. Japan probably wanted to talk, but this had to be done in private. The bathroom was as good a place as any.

England strode into the room, turned on a tap, and splashed the cold water over his face. He wasn't sure if he was feeling more hurt, angry, or dep- upset by what America had said earlier. Why did he have to be singled out like that? What did he ever do? It wasn't his fault that he wasn't _normal_ like the rest of the nations. It couldn't be, right? Or was it-

"England-san? Are you doing alright?" Japan asked quietly. The neutral expression on his face made it nearly impossible to tell what the Asian nation was thinking. Luckily, England knew the older man well enough to discern certain details from speech patterns and micro-expressions that he couldn't prevent.

"Not at all, Japan. I'm having a hard time with everything that that idiot said and trying to figure out what I did to make him hate me so much!" England admitted. He had learned long ago that Japan would get his answer either way, so he might as well just come out and say what he was thinking.

"You are not alone, England-san. And what America said is untrue. You are not annoying, and it does not matter what just one person thinks." Japan said coolly, his eyes crinkling slightly. So Japan was having a hard time with this too.

"This is one country whose opinions _matter_ worldwide. And it isn't as if he was the only country thinking these things." England ranted. _This might provoke Japan into voicing himself too._

"You are not the only one who was insulted and offended, England-san!" Japan yelled with frustration. He slammed his fist on to the counter beside the sinks. After a few deep breaths, he lowered his voice and continued. "What America said is not what everyone thinks, and it is most definitely _not your fault_." Japan stared at England knowingly. He knew where England's mind was likely to be drawn, and England knew where his would wander.

England sighed, turned, and leaned against the sinks. "I know that it isn't my fault, just as well as you know that it is safe to show your emotions outwardly. I can't help it." He looked up at the Asian man, whose eyes were now focused on the nearest empty stall. England sighed again. "It's been a bad few days, but today I am 16844 days clean. From everything. That is something that I can say I have done. That is something that I can remember for myself."

"And I have recently learned that certain gestures are not a threat." Japan walked over to England, taking a place beside him against the sink. "I have willingly engaged in friendly contact with... friends... 583 times over the past five years, including hugs and an arm over the shoulder. Mostly with Italy-kun. That is something that I can remember." Tentatively, the elder put his arm around the shoulder of the younger, and the two sat in silence for a moment.

"Japan, I'm very glad for you. That's amazing progress. You are a stronger man than I." England commented. He could see the small twitch of the other's mouth as they tried to suppress the smile that was trying to form on his lips. Small steps. Habits aren't broken in a day, after all. "I will always be safe for you, you know. Some day, I would love to see you really smile."

 _Might as well encourage him while I have the chance. No harm, right?_

"H-Hai, Englan-san. Some day." Japan stuttered nervously. Baby steps.

"You're still clean too?" England inquired.

Japan answered quickly and concisely. "I have not engaged in any form of purposeful bodily harm or mutilation against myself since the last time we spoke. You said you were clean too?"

England replied in kind. "I have not engaged in any form of purposeful bodily harm or mutilation against myself for 16844 days. I have not taken any substances that would alter my perceptions of reality, change my hormones, or otherwise alter my physical and/or mental state other than over the counter pain relievers for headaches and non-prescription cold medicine for 16844 days. I have not gone a single day without consuming my minimum healthy calorie count for 16844 days."

England counted his sober streak by the day. Japan counted his sober streak in increments. Japan had been clean longer than England, only because he had somehow managed to find a reason to try to stay clean without help or encouragement in the beginning. Japan had been free of any self harm since some time in the 1950's. England wasn't exactly sure when, but he figured that his friend had tried to give up this particular habit after WWII ended, and suffered a few relapses in the early stages.

"I am also glad to hear this. It is quite an impressive number. You are getting close to 17000." Japan commented idly, as if they were not discussing such a dark topic.

"That will be on February 4th of next year. It seems close. Far enough to be a struggle, but a manageable goal to work towards." There was a small bounce in his voice as England gave his short commentary.

"So how are you holding up?" England asked after a brief moment of silence. "We don't get to chat too often, so I'd just like to check in."

 _This gives Japan the opportunity to speak as much or little as he would like. With any luck, he'll open up more rather than less this time._

Japan stared at his hands quietly for a moment. England waited patiently. It was an unspoken understanding that they always give an indefinite amount of time to answer difficult questions. "I have been doing better in the very recent past. Italy-kun has taken to visiting more often and bringing his cat to play. I like to see that cat, so I have been getting more accustomed to Italy-kun's presence for longer periods of time. Sometimes, I can almost copy his expressions. Just a little, though. I don't feel the need to cut when he is around anymore, nor for about a day afterwards." Japan removed his arm from around England's shoulder. He ran his left hand along his right sleeve, then placed it across his stomach. "I am grateful to you and to Italy-kun for your patience."

England couldn't help but notice the one flaw in his statement. "As long as you recognize your own accomplishments. Italy and I didn't do it for you." England looked over at his friend, who was still watching the hand on his stomach. He have a small sigh before asking another question. "Have you talked to anyone else?"

Japan blinked. "Just as many people as you have."

"Ah." England looked down again. "You might consider telling Italy eventually. He's too nice to ever try to hurt you with the information, and he is capable of being tactful and keeping it a secret when he knows that it's a serious situation."

Japan's eyes narrowed slightly. Not with suspicion, but probably with deep thought. For a moment he parted his lips as if he was unsure about whether or not to voice a thought.

Perhaps he needs encouragement? "You can say anything at all. This place is safe." England assured him.

"Italy-kun might not be the person who learns next." Japan stated.

"Germany, then?"

"Iie. Not Germany-san." Japan went quiet for a moment before continuing. "There are two things that I am good at. I can sense the mood, and I can refrain from speaking. After sensing the mood earlier, I think the next person who might learn is probably going to be Latvia-san."


End file.
